The gravy was disgusting. And that is my review of The New Inn in Ealing complete. I can go back to bed now.
Oh you need a photograph.

Right, finished.
Oh and the Brexit part, hang on…

Who the fuck are those 10% of remainers who think Brexit has made their life better? Does Liz Truss have 100 Ipsos accounts? Though I guess she’s too busy scoring trade deals with…erm…one state in America to be able to fill out polls, along with her intimidation of Putin which I’m sure will persuade him to withdraw his troops from Ukraine any day now.
Yes, I have a hangover. I hope by time you read this that I don’t, but quite possibly I will still have it as I’m in my 40’s and hangovers have been extended for even longer than Tory governments. Right now, as of this paragraph, it is Sunday evening. I really want to go to bed, but also I really want to write this review whilst the passion is here. FEEL MY PASSION.
9 pints. I only had 9 pints. I don’t deserve the hangover from hell on 9 pints. And yeah, I’ve reached the point of cool where I count my drinks and then boast about it on the internet, look at me, I’m so cool, I had 9 pints but somehow managed not to grope anyone’s arse. Which probably explains why I’m not in politics. That and believing that we should privatise the NHS. I should go to bed, shouldn’t I?
The New Out
I didn’t actually count my drinks. I counted the receipts on my phone just now.
The New Inn is yet another Young’s pub and I keep saying that I won’t add any more to my to-do list, but last year I was looking for some convenient places to go in west London for when the Metropolitan line was suspended – places I can get to on the Piccadilly line. And a follower who is quite possibly in hiding now, suggested The New Inn.
I was like, “not another Young’s pub”, but he insisted this was one of the good ones. And it is an easy location for me. Or it would be if there wasn’t engineering works on the Piccadilly line.
Yeah, I’m a dickhead. I not only managed to use my west London easy roast card when there wasn’t any Metropolitan line engineering works, but also on the same Sunday as when there are Piccadilly line engineering works. Guess what line has engineering works next Sunday? Aha.
One benefit of going to a Young’s pub is that I finally get to find out how many fucking calories there are in a roast dinner.

Yes I have fingers. How many fucking calories in a roast dinner? And how does the mushroom wellington have twice as many calories as a beef roast dinner? And how does a pork belly roast dinner have nearly three times as many calories than a beef roast dinner?
Fuck, I’ve just realised what might have caused my whopping hangover:

I had a vegetarian dinner when drinking. A vada pav. I wanted to do the vada pav in the Dishoom cookbook, but I don’t have a deep fat fryer (or even a toaster). So kind of similarly to Chris Pincher, I had an urge to fulfil. That really is a great last name for a someone caught groping ass, isn’t it?
The New Shake It About
Anyway, the vegetarian meal clearly caused me to have a bad hangover.
Soooooooooooooooooo. We arrived at The New Inn, ordered drinks from the bar, we were shown to our table, the waitress came and gave us the menus so I could finally go, “how many fucking calories in a roast dinner?”. And then 45 minutes later, we realised that we apparently had to go order at the bar. A ha.
By the way, has Michael Jackson been cancelled? When was the last time you heard of his existence? Though I’ve just seen that a book about DJs that I once read has been re-published. This time without the Jimmy Savile interview.

You know what. I have a few things to say. Firstly that plate. It makes Brexit look like a sensible policy option. The design looks dirty and it was quite small and bowl-like.
Secondly, the food wasn’t hot. It was barley lukewarm. Maybe their microwave wasn’t working.
Thirdly. FUCKING PEAS. Do you see it on the menu anywhere? “Served with Roast Potatoes, Honey Roasted Carrots & Parsnips, Rainbow Chard, Crushed Roots, Cabbage, Broccoli & a Giant Yorkshire Pudding & homemade Gravy”. And wHO The fucK DeciDed on Your Menu CAPitalisaTion? Urgh.

There are quite a few outright lies on that menu but obviously the stunningly egregious “I’m not invading a country, we are just doing military exercises right next to the border” lie is not mentioning Peas. I hadn’t even eaten anything and I was already judging it the second worst roast dinner of the year.
My accomplice was halfway through his roast before I was comforted that I’d found all the devils.

Still, it might be one of those few good Young’s pubs.
Oh and I lied to you about the gravy by the way. The gravy wasn’t disgusting. There wasn’t any gravy. It was jus. And yeah, the jus was disgusting.
The New Inn, Out, Shake It All About And Throw The Peas On The Floor
Oh it’s never a good sign when I start the post-Brexit part of the review by describing the jus. It tasted kind of like a mixture of burnt honey and burnt whiskey. Kind of oily and watery at the same time, I instantly disliked it.
I’d asked for extra jus and to my surprise the waiter started taking the plate away until I looked at him questioningly. Maybe he was telling me something. It’s still Sunday evening. But I am going for a lay down.
I didn’t actually describe the menu to you, did I? There was beef with ox cheek, pork belly with one pig IN blanket or chicken with chorizo and sausagemeat stuffing ball – given that I don’t think I’ve had chorizo on a roast dinner since my very first roast dinner review in London, I went for the chicken. But you know that as you’ve seen the photographs.
So what else was disgusting? I can tell you that the carrots were – they were apparently honey-glazed but something wasn’t right with the honey as they just tasted disgusting.
Weirdly I didn’t hate the parsnip in terms of flavour, even though it was also allegedly roasted in honey. I say allegedly, as it was limp and under-cooked.
The tenderstem broccoli wasn’t very tender – I couldn’t even eat the stalk, it just seemed raw. And fuck raw veg. The tops were decent though.
The cabbage was fine. Except for having peas in it. And also except for tasting of the disgusting jus.
The New Inn, Out, Have A Moan
POTATOES.

You could complain about only getting two roast potatoes but I didn’t eat two of them. Seriously, if you ran a pub, would you serve that grey-looking “roast” potato in the middle? Because you shouldn’t.
Yes, the roast potatoes were crap – tired, undercooked and stale. I don’t leave food. But I didn’t eat much of them.
I also didn’t eat much of the Yorkshire pudding, which looks worse than it was, but it looks absolutely fucking cremated so that isn’t much of a compliment. It tasted a bit burnt, but the positive was that it was actually quite soft. Is that the first compliment of the review?
The chicken was actually alright. Yeah, I liked something! By this point I’d given up on enjoyment, and even though the chicken was decent – no more – it still tasted of the jus which was disgusting. The breast was a bit dry, but you know, worse things have happened. All through the dinner.
And the reason why I ordered the chicken – the chorizo and sausagemeat stuffing ball was ok too. Barely a hint of chorizo and a bit dried out – but it also didn’t offend me.
Guess you could say that I finished on a high. Right, I really am going to bed now.
The New Inn. Don’t go in.
It wasn’t quite the worst roast dinner of the year but it really was a plate of misery.
My accomplice had the trio, which gave The New Inn an opportunity to use a different type of crap plate:

He wasn’t in a state of loathing such as I was, enjoyed the meats and didn’t hate the jus…southerner. His score was one of relative disappointment – a 5.75 out of 10. His wife, who was due to join us but couldn’t make it, would probably have sent it back and asked her her money back…northerner.
My accomplice also ordered a portion of cauliflower cheese for £6.00 – a total rip-off for the fairly small amount received, but it was actually cheesy – and hot.
I disliked almost everything on the plate – other than the chicken and the stuffing, neither of which impressed me but by that stage you could have brought out a troupe of flamenco strippers to feed me and I still wouldn’t have been impressed.
Stale potatoes, undercooked un-tenderstem broccoli, yucky carrots, cremated yorkie and disgusting jus. And those plates. And it was served lukewarm. With PEAS. And yes, I did just search Pornhub and sadly flamenco strippers are not a thing.

I’m scoring it a 3.11 out of 10. I’m not entirely sure it really is the 4th worst roast dinner that I’ve had in London – maybe if I hadn’t had to spend 10 minutes removing unadvertised peas then it would have been the 10th worst or something. But it was a turgid experience.
Next weekend I have no plans yet. But those engineering works on the Metropolitan line do mean that west is best. As in best location because I’m definitely not feeling Ealing.
Summary:
The New Inn, Ealing
Station: South Ealing
Tube Lines: Piccadilly
Fare Zone: Zone 3
Price: £18.00
Rating: 3.11
Loved & Loathed
Loved: Erm...the chicken was alright.
Loathed: Disgusting jus, cremated yorkie, stale potatoes, un-tenderstem broccoli, yucky carrots. Have I missed anything? PEAS. Unadvertised peas. Avoid.
Where now, sailor?
Random roast review: The Apollo Arms, Clapham
